


living like this

by sassymajesty



Series: bought, owned, earned [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Extra Scenes Collection, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassymajesty/pseuds/sassymajesty
Summary: But that’s not what woke her up this time.
And she can’t quite pinpoint it at first. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, a task that proves to be much more difficult than she supposed it would be, Lexa feels lips sucking against her pulse point a second before a tongue peeks out, soothing the aching spot and tracing a path up her neck.
Oh.
---Extra scene from Bargaining For More.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna include it on BFM chapter 5, but it kinda clashed with what I had already planned and since I couldn’t let go of the idea, I decided to make it a bonus scene. And _that_ idea grew on me, so this will become a collection of extra scenes from the series. I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> And major thanks to [Beth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/salsayourface) for being so patient with all my mistakes, as silly as they were.

The first thing Lexa notices as she cracks an eye open is the moonlight filtering in through the open curtains. It’s a cold and soft light, making the already sparse colors of her bedroom float to her in an array of greys. Sleep clings to her as she vaguely remembers how heavy the snow clouds had looked when she was standing on Lincoln’s balcony, and the memory makes the sheets feel even softer around her.

The second thing she notices is how warm she is. More often than not, she wakes up shivering and covered in a thin layer of cold sweat, even on summer days. Her gaze finds the ceiling as she turns her head, trying to pinpoint what woke her up. She remembers falling asleep on her side instead of her usual position - on her back, arms straight at her side - with Clarke curled up around her. As her foggy mind takes an inventory of her own body, she feels a heavy arm thrown across her midsection and she realizes Clarke is still very much wrapped around her. Who’d guess Clarke could be a cuddling machine?

_ Clarke _ .

Flashes from earlier hours fill her mind, memories fresh enough to cut. Her chest aches when she sees herself open and raw, spilling everything she’s bottled up for almost a decade - she had told that story exactly once before, when she attempted therapy, but soon found out it was much more painful than simply pushing it away. The ache becomes a hand slowly but firmly squeezing her heart at the pictures her mind had formed when Clarke disclosed her own past - losing both parents, her life touched by death and betrayal at such an early age, being forced to grow up decades in a few weeks so she could feed herself and keep a roof over her head. 

They both have monsters to fight each day when they look themselves in the mirror, and each night when the monsters find their ways to their dreams. 

Ever since they started this endeavour, Lexa has been waking up with a jolt, the last frame of her most recent nightmare stuck behind her eyelids - more often than not, it was Costia’s face; more often than not, she could barely recognize it through all the blood and open wounds.

But that’s not what woke her up this time.

And she can’t quite pinpoint it at first. Breathing in and barely resisting the urge to stretch her hands over her head, Lexa catches Clarke’s scent - watermelon shampoo and sleep, a combination that fits Clarke beyond words -, a few stray hairs making her exhale quickly to keep them from going up her nostrils. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, a task that proves to be much more difficult than she supposed it would be, Lexa feels lips sucking against her pulse point a second before a tongue peeks out, soothing the aching spot and tracing a path up her neck.

_ Oh _ .

When she finally finds it in her to move, Lexa reaches out for Clarke’s hair, tangling her fingers in the golden curls as she turns slightly to her side. Her other arm is trapped under Clarke’s shoulder, but the tingling sensation can’t overwhelm how good it feels to be woken up by teeth pulling gently at the skin of her jaw. 

Clarke leans on her elbow, lifting herself slightly to look at Lexa, smiling as her hand reaches under Lexa’s top. As her fingertips traces odd patterns on her skin, Lexa lets out an embarrassingly shaky sigh - she’s weak and she can’t focus enough to pretend she’s not with sleep clouding her judgment. Clarke’s hand slide up further, cupping one breast as gently and slowly as Lexa could imagine, kissing her jaw before whispering, “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm,” is all Lexa can muster, and even then it comes out uneven. Clarke’s nails rake the sensitive skin, raising goosebumps as she gives attention to both breasts, her eyes never leaving Lexa’s hooded ones.

Oh, what a lovely way to wake up.

Between breathy sighs and head tipping back in pleasure, Lexa studies Clarke in a way that feels more like a reverence than a simple gaze between lovers. Her blonde curls fall forward and curtains her face, despite Lexa’s constant efforts to keep said curls behind her ear - it’s like, much like Clarke, her curls won’t be commanded. Lexa lets her eyes travel from the deep neck of her button-up pajama top that reveals Clarke’s cleavage in its most glorious angle to the dip of her collarbone, to how her mouth hangs slightly open, the tip of her tongue pressing against her cuspid tooth as if she’s concentrating very hard on something. 

She licks her own lips as she notices the way Clarke’s pupils are blown wide, her breath as heavy as hers is, despite the fact Lexa is barely touching her - oh, if only she could shut her brain up for one hour, if only she could kill this hope that will only bring her misery.

But Clarke is painted in greys and it feels like a dream. Lexa hasn’t had a dream that felt this peaceful, this guilt-free, this  _ good _ in so long, she refuses to let it go.

Securing more of Clarke’s curls in her loose fist, Lexa pulls Clarke up until their lips meet in the same calm and soft way they did earlier that night, earlier when they were pretending they were kissing for the first time. Their lips close around each other and let go, enjoying the novelty that is sleep mixed with an intimacy neither of them had known for a long time.

Clarke changes the angle, freeing her hand that had been left trapped between their bodies to support her weight as she deepens the kiss, her tongue coaxing a moan out of Lexa. Moving to lean on both her elbows and sliding a thigh in between Lexa’s, Clarke falls back into a softer kiss, lips sliding together, enclosing around each other as if it’s a dance they’ve been practicing forever.

Lexa can feel Clarke’s breath warm against her cheek as she tightens her grip in her hair, keeping her impossibly close - and yet it’s not nearly close enough. She tries to lift her arm still stretched out on the mattress so she can embrace Clarke’s waist and melt their torsos together. Instead, her arm falls heavily on Clarke’s ribs before flopping back onto the mattress.

Her confused expression turns into a horrified one as Clarke breaks the kiss and stares at her for a moment, before bursting into a hearty laughter. “What happened?” Clarke says in an amused tone as Lexa tries and fails to find words, merely frowning against the prickling sensation that goes from her shoulder to her fingertips, “Arm fell asleep?”

Nodding, Lexa reaches over herself to pick her dead arm up, letting it fall on her chest as she inspects it, looking for any permanent damage. She knows - rationally, she  _ knows _ \- it’s only a matter of a few minutes before the blood starts flowing again, but she distracts herself as the embarrassment of having killed the mood sinks in.

Clarke sits back on her heels, straddling one of Lexa’s thighs as she takes her arm in her hands, massaging it lightly to help the blood flow again. Lexa wiggles her fingers as Clarke presses random points until she can tell the feeling is back to her entire arm. She doesn’t say it right way, instead choosing to admire Clarke’s pout as she focuses solely on touching her, the moonlight casting shadows that makes Lexa’s breath hitch.

“You good?” the blonde asks after a while, setting Lexa’s arm down against her stomach gently and letting her own hands fall to her sides. It’s like she’s giving Lexa an out - if she wants to go back to sleep and pretend nothing was about to happen, this is the time.

This is also the last thing Lexa wants to do.

Taking a deep breath in, mustering whatever courage she finds buried within her, Lexa moves her hands to Clarke’s exposed thighs. “I’m good,” her words are little more than a whisper as she trails her fingertips across Clarke’s body, settling gently on the last button in her shirt. Lexa frowns as she works, the act of unbuttoning a shirt much more difficult in the haze of want and need that overpowers her. But Clarke waits patiently, giving Lexa the time she needs. When she gets to the top button, her fingers are trembling like she’s a teenage boy about to see his girlfriend naked for the first time. She licks her lips, her heart beating so wildly she can feel it on her throat as she croaks out, “Take it off. I need to touch you.”

When Clarke slides the shirt off and tosses it to the floor, Lexa takes in the sight in pure and unadulterated adoration.

“Are you gonna stare or are you gonna do something with them?” Clarke says teasingly, leaning forward only enough for her breasts to bounce until Lexa cups them both. 

Her hands seem made to hold Clarke’s breasts, the heel of her hand supporting most of the weight as her fingertips sink effortlessly into the soft skin. Lexa is very aware of her hooded eyes focusing on little else besides how Clarke’s breasts respond to her touch - the slight bounce as she moves her hands, the visible hardening of a nipple when the pad of Lexa’s thumb swipes across it, the pebbles rising in the darker skin at the sudden cold when Lexa lets go for a moment. 

The movement makes both breasts bounce lightly in front of Lexa’s face, who can't help but let her mouth go slightly agape in either awe or urge to take a nipple in between her lips - she herself can't quite tell. The latter option seems ridiculously tempting right now.

Lexa lifts herself on her elbow, reaching with her free hand to cup Clarke’s breast. She takes her time kneading the soft skin, raking her nails lightly against the underside of it before reaching for her nipple, tugging at it with her thumb and forefinger. It feels outrageous that she has never paid Clarke’s breasts this much attention before. Lexa hears Clarke’s breath hitch as she rolls the stiff peak, letting it go and soothing it with her thumb - she isn't quite sure how hard Clarke likes her nipple play, and she doesn't wanna ruin this moment with words. 

When Clarke starts slowly rolling her hips, Lexa bites her tongue to keep a smile from giving away how proud she is of inflicting this reaction and takes the neglected nipple in between her lips. She sucks it slightly, lapping at it with the underside of her tongue - she's promptly rewarded with a shaky sigh from Clarke, and Lexa smiles, knowing very well the sensation can be breathtaking. Clarke arches her back and Lexa opens her mouth a bit wider to accommodate Clarke’s breasts pressing more heavily against her, teeth grazing the pebbled skin, lips wrapping around the stiff peak lightly before Lexa lets go with a pop.

Her sight is hazy, the high from eliciting such delightful sounds from Clarke with so little touching making it harder for the outside world to get to her, and she barely notices Clarke falling to her elbows, her face hovering mere inches from Lexa’s, “You really like them, don’t you?” Clarke whispers in a low, sultry voice as she closes the distance between them. 

Their tongues meet first and their teeth clash, but the kiss feels impossibly slow. Clarke leans forward and Lexa has to tip her head back to keep their mouths from parting, and the change in position deepens the kiss, making it harder and harder for Lexa to keep her emotions in check.

Breaking the kiss, Lexa hums low in her throat as she blinks the beginning of stubborn tears away from her eyes, her hands finding home on the small of Clarke’s back, “You have really great breasts.”

Clarke lets out a snort, “You call them breas-  _ of course _ you do. you’re so formal.” The blonde rolls her eyes, a teasing smile still on her lips as she leans down to connect their lips again - so Lexa knows it’s a joke, and it eats at her that she already knows Clarke’s little mannerisms - before sitting up once more. “Can you call them boobs, at least?” Clarke makes them bounce a little too hard and laughs. Lexa almost joins her, both because the idea seems preposterous and because Clarke’s laugh is just  _ that _ contagious. “Come on, say I’ve got nice tits.”

It feels cold without Clarke’s body pressed against her, and Lexa shifts until she can find her ground and lift herself to a seated position - which makes Clarke’s thigh press against the apex of her thighs, which makes her feel even more breathless.

“ _ Clarke,” _ Lexa says in the middle of a breathy laughter. Even the mere idea makes her more amused than it should - she can’t say such words. She thinks them, very well. But while they sound sexy and irresistible paired with Clarke’s low voice, Lexa is sure they’d sound out of place if she voiced them.

Her hands travel up from the small of Clarke’s back to her stomach, trailing a path until she can graze the underside of her breasts. Lexa is lost in how the weight of them shifts as Clarke changes position - they look rounder now that she’s sitting up, her hands holding her hair up as her blue eyes burn a hole on Lexa’s face.

Lexa is about to squeeze both breasts together and make a line connecting them with little hickeys when Clarke takes her hands away, pinning them to her thighs. “Nu-uh, no touching until you say it,” her voice is a teasing sort of stern and it works - Lexa pouts.

The moment stretches as Lexa takes deep breaths, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s chest. She knows the longer she takes to make a choice, the more amused Clarke becomes, but she has a battle going on inside her.

In the end, she gives in.

But if she’s doing this, she’s doing it right.

Lexa licks her lips, dragging her teeth across the bottom one before looking up at Clarke from under her eyelashes. The moonlight makes the blonde in her hair look a pale off-white, not quite matching the slightly darker tones of her skin - but her eyes look pitch black. 

“Your  _ tits _ are  _ fucking _ gorgeous,” Lexa’s voice is low and hoarse, and it surprises both of them how the words flow like they’re made for her mouth, “And your  _ ass _ is unbelievable.” Clarke loosens the grip on her wrists, and Lexa trails one hand up her stomach, raking her nails against the underside of Clarke’s breast before cupping it happily. The other goes up to her chin, the pad of her thumb dragging across Clarke’s lower lip until her mouth opens slightly, “And your mouth,  _ god… _ ” Lexa tips her head back slightly, the stretch of her neck making the last word come out as a moan, before looking hungrily at Clarke’s eyes, “Your mouth alone could make me come until I see stars.”

Her heart is hammering painfully against her ribcage and her lungs seem unable to retain any oxygen, but it worked - if Clarke’s looking at her like she’s a piece of meat is any indication of it.

The space between them vanishes as Clarke sinks her hands in a mane of wavy brown curls, pulling Lexa into a bruising kiss, all tongue and saliva and teeth. Lexa grips Clarke’s jaw to keep her in place and if her grasp is a bit too tight, no one complains. Her other hand reluctantly lets go of Clarke’s breast and trails down her ribs, her torso and clutches her hip, motioning for the blonde to start waving her hips against her leg.

Breaking the kiss to come up for air, Lexa watches in awe as Clarke almost chokes with her own spit as she moans - a moan that sounds more desperate than carefully orchestrated to be sexy. The sight has Lexa in such a trance that she barely notices Clarke hastily pulling her top up until the blonde is grunting at her to lift her arms so her pajama top can come off.

Lexa hits the pillow before her top gets to the floor, Clarke’s body firmly pressing her own down and Lexa feels electricity coursing through every inch of skin that touches Clarke’s - from their naked thighs pressing against sensitive flesh to their bellies moving together with every ragged breath to Clarke’s taut nipples brushing against Lexa’s as the blonde changes position.

Clarke presses her lips against Lexa’s in a bruising kiss that steals all air from their lungs. A bite on her lower lip, tongues sliding against each other in a painfully slow rhythm at first and then growing to a frantic pace that has Lexa struggling to keep up. Lexa gives herself into the kiss, letting Clarke command their cadence, her hands coming up to keep blonde curls away from her face.

The kiss may look wild and extremely sexy, but Lexa can only find one word to describe how it feels -  _ desperate. _

Breaking the kiss with a wet sound, Lexa stares at Clarke’s kiss bruised lips, aching to let the blonde kiss her until she’s nothing more than mush and desire - but all this hunger will tear them apart. The blue in Clarke’s heavy hooded eyes has faded to a dark grey, and Lexa aches to see them clearly again. Clarke is meant to be seen in vibrant colors, not in the near black and white the moonlight offers her. Lexa reaches over to turn the bedside lamp on, her eyes never quite leaving Clarke, her hand still tangled with blonde curls. 

They both gain color at once - Lexa can see the red popping from Clarke’s lips and a few softer pink tones showing where her teeth had met the fair skin of her chest. But the eyes. Clarke’s eyes are a dark blue, filled with desire and want that Lexa knows to be reflected in her own green ones.

Everything feels different than before, from their kisses to the way her gaze wants to memorize all details of Clarke.

Considering the way Clarke is looking at her, she feels the same.

Lexa presses their closed lips together for a long moment, almost afraid of letting it deepen. But Clarke breaks the kiss before their tongues meet, kissing Lexa’s cheek before trailing a path down her neck to her sternum. Lexa can do nothing but sigh, clinging to Clarke’s curls more firmly as the blonde swirls her tongue against the hollow of her collarbone and bites the skin in between her breasts. 

Following Clarke’s tongue trace every inch of skin is almost enough to make Lexa melt right there and then. Clarke looks up at her through her eyelashes and smirks, letting her tongue make a big swirl around her nipple before saying in a husky voice, “Your tits are damn fine too, you know?” 

And just like that, the spell breaks and they’re back to their familiar dynamic.

“ _ Jesus _ , Clarke,” Lexa snorts and covers her face as Clarke places little kisses down her stomach, quickly reaching the waistline of her pajama pants and sliding them off, along with her panties.. 

They aren’t ready for all the intimacy that kiss would lead to - not yet. 

Lexa opens her eyes just in time to see Clarke stark naked climbing back on top of her - in the warm light coming from the bedside lamp, the sight is breathtaking. Her hands immediately reach out for Clarke’s waist, feeling her movements as the blonde settles in the same position she was before - one thigh is in between Lexa’s, a bit too far away to get any hint of pressure where she needs it the most, as Clarke straddles her thigh, falling forward on her hands.

Her breath catches in her throat when Clarke’s wetness coats her skin, the slick flesh sliding against her thigh, making her head swim. Clarke is  _ so _ wet - the kind of wet that makes Lexa want to bury her fingers in it until Clarke can't tell up from down, the kind of wet that is impossible to fake. Clarke waves her hips against Lexa, a barely there touch at first, growing steady until she's pressing down on Lexa’s thigh with each shallow thrust. Lexa follows each movement with her hands steady on Clarke’s waist, watching every subtle change as if she's in a trance - the frown in between Clarke’s eyebrow, the slight parting of her lips as she lets a breath out, the little sounds that leave her throat without her meaning to. 

Running her fingers up Clarke’s spine until she can sink them into blonde curls, Lexa brings Clarke down for a kiss. Their lips meet in a trembling kiss, a far cry from the wild and desperate kisses they shared previously, and Clarke falls to her elbows to balance herself. The change in position makes it easy for Clarke to adjust her thigh to press it against Lexa, who breaks the kiss to shiver a soft cry out - she’s been craving the touch for far too long already. She wraps one arm around her shoulders, bringing the other down to Clarke’s thigh to guide the movements until the pressure feels almost enough. Clarke reaches around her and brings the leg she’s shamelessly grinding on to an angle, so it hits just the right spot, before trying to find Lexa’s eyes in the haze of need they both find themselves in.

“Is it okay to do it like this?” Clarke asks, her voice cracking as she pushes her thigh harder against Lexa, her breath hitting Lexa’s jaw with each sharp exhale that matches her thrusts, “Does it feel good?”

Lexa feels her stomach twist and turn like a ship stuck in a wild storm, and she can’t pinpoint if it’s the pitch of Clarke’s voice that is causing it or how lifting her leg and wrapping it around Clarke’s hip makes the thrusts hit her clit with full force - she forbids herself to even think about the first option for too long. “It feels good, yes.”

Nodding against her jaw, Clarke buries her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck and something about it - the way Clarke’s breath is warm and coming out in quick fast puffs against her skin, how one of Clarke’s hands has found its way to Lexa’s messy curls, the feeling of their entire naked bodies touching and moving in sync, the smell of Clarke’s skin mixed with sweat and desire filling the room - makes Lexa close her eyes and lose herself in the moment.

It’ll hurt later. It’ll hurt when she’s lying alone in a bed too big for her, watching the clock tick away the hours, mocking her for not being able to find sleep. It’ll hurt like hell, but for now, she wants nothing more than to commit every sound Clarke makes to memory. They’re both all gasps and sharp breaths and soft moans against soft skin - if Lexa feels her heart beating wildly against her ribcage, she tries to convince herself it has nothing to do with her latest discovery.

Clarke is quieter when she's half asleep and not faking it.

Lexa waves her hips against Clarke’s thigh, finding a rhythm that leaves her breathless as desire melts like lead in the bottom of her stomach, heavy and warm and  _ oh,  _ so right. She knows very well her own telltale signs of how close her is, despite how scarce they’ve been for the last few years, and she closes her eyes shut, concentrating only on the feeling between her legs. She clings to Clarke, nails sinking to soft skin as if she’s scared the blonde will melt away, and waves her hips frantically as the world fades away for a blissful moment.

It’s Clarke’s teeth against her shoulder, grazing her skin with every thrust, that brings her back to herself. 

Lexa shifts her hips so her too sensitive flesh isn’t against thigh, and focuses on Clarke - she’s waving her hips in a steady rhythm, fast and staccato, pressing down harder with each new wave, her entire body dragging up and down Lexa’s each time. The sounds coming from the back of her throat are almost lost against Lexa’s skin, and her hands become fists clinging both to the sheets and the curls at the end of Lexa’s neck.

Lexa peppers kisses on Clarke’s neck, trailing a path down to her shoulder and back up, at the same time her hand moves to her behind. The low moans that drag out more and more makes Lexa bolder and she palms Clarke’s ass, squeezing a cheek like she’s been wanting to since they met - not that she’s willing to admit it, ever.

When Clarke comes crying out her name, Lexa can swear all the pain she’ll endure will be worth it for this single moment.

Their breaths quiet down as they breathe each other in, legs still tangled, arms still wrapped around each other. They don’t speak as they move together towards the cooler side of the bed, and it feels like something they’ve rehearsed for years on end - their legs stay intertwined as Clarke palms her ribs, curling in on herself to fit between Lexa’s chest and arms that soon wrap around her.

They leave the light on, the buzz coursing through their body making it hard to move, the warmth of each other making them unwilling to.

Lexa lets her fingers comb through blonde curls as Clarke’s breath evens out slowly, watching as the warm light casts shadows on their bodies. They fit well together. Clarke’s head rests comfortably on her biceps, and she can palm the middle of the blonde’s back without trouble, feeling each breath intake both by how her ribs move and the puff of air against her chest.

“Can I ask you something?” Lexa whispers in a sleepy voice and feels silly - she’s repeating herself.

“Are you gonna do that every time we’re cuddling? I don’t mind, I’m just wondering,” Clarke’s voice is barely the ghost of a murmur, coming out of her along with an exhale. Lexa wouldn’t have heard it if she wasn’t so close to her - which is a blessing and a curse all at once, because she’s sure Clarke can feel her heartbeat hammering against her chest with the idea that they’ll sleep together like this again. When Lexa doesn’t say anything, Clarke encourages her, “Go ahead.”

Lexa leans against the top of Clarke’s head, the smell of her shampoo lulling Lexa closer to sleep, “Do you regret it?” It feels heavy to say more and complete her train of thought, but she powers through, her voice matching Clarke’s cadence, “Sharing everything we did. Earlier.”

It’s a long moment before Clarke answers, “No, I don’t. Do you?”

“No. I trust you,” she meant to say she trusts Clarke won’t look at her with pity in her eyes the next day, or handle her with too much care, like she can break at any moment. But sleep claims her, and the short version of her sentence rings as true as anything they’ve shared tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to request whatever scenes you want to see written out! Hmu @ alyciadebnamscareys


End file.
